oaktree with character

Monday Morning took off in suiting Grey. Darkgrey is the Garbage Container that is looking out for emptying. Grey is the Morning Tea. Grey is my pullover put on to keep warm when going outside. And so on and so forth just until I climbed into the hill garden to take on the Radical Extraction Work, lifting the Herculean Pickaxe. So as the sun broke through and my sweat began to stream, I had to pull off my sweater. A changing of colours everywhere. Until we had our espresso break after the second Root Monster bounced agonizing on the drive way. Such a liberating throw!


Then the Postman came - very early indeed - to deliver letters which turned out not to contain the long expected membership card of our new german health insurance. No, for the third time we would have to send in our photos. Bureaucratic whims&tricks&failures. I have been working on this particular case since the beginning of December. Still no new cards in sight. Gutmourning Gnädige Frau Whats Going On Here? The Morning Gold turns into Black, Desperate Darkness. And then the Grey-Black Multiplyer of Uncomprehensibility comes up to inform us that my written official request to delete our (former) Dutch Car Registration is irretrievable lost. A fourtnights waiting for an official declaration turns out to have been based on Nothing. On an expectation that letters posted are received and processed. You Black Moron!

And suddenly - after lunch, as we leave home in search for a public fax-machine the phone rings and a stammering young civil servant informs me that my Request had been traced - somewhere on his desk, I suppose - and that the wrong digital system-status had been corrected. Hurray! From Desperate Black back to Sunny Grey. Laughing and relieved we both went skipping down the stairs into town. We will survive as old grumbling oaktrees do. Look at that murky overgrown Centenarian. It is dancing to celebrate its grounding in Carlsheaven's soil.